


It Just Keeps Happening

by Bool_Ji



Category: Dark Souls
Genre: Bondage, Explicit Sexual Content, Hate Sex, M/M, Probably Not A Good Thing To Use As Lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 12:33:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2068323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bool_Ji/pseuds/Bool_Ji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Get the ring back. That came off his first victim, damn it. A high-ranking official in the army. Wasn’t easy. The ring is a trophy, and a fine one at that. That this snide serpent has it wrapped around his finger is a curse in of itself. He’s offering a cure?</p>
<p>"Yes, fine, just make it quick."</p>
<p>"I beg your pardon?"</p>
<p>The murderer grumbles epithets under his breath. “Yes. Please.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Just Keeps Happening

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr user sharkrocket drew me Lucatiel in a pretty dress so I wrote her some smut in exchange based off this picture (http://sharkrocket.tumblr.com/post/92796243383/it-just-keeps-happening). 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

"I’ve always been the brains of our little outfit. I weave clever words to lure simple-minded fools into their own downfall. You lock yourself in cages."

"Fucking  _bastard_!”

The crackle and glow of the bonfire is alluring. Anyone could wander down the shaded path and find them. Mild-mannered Pate, however, is so comfortable using Creighton the Wanderer as a footrest that he really can’t bring himself to care. Let those sorry souls have their flame. He is quite content with the rage burning in the murderer’s eyes.

"I will admit, my dear partner-in-crime, you do have your merits. Your skill with an axe is unparalleled…" Pate hesitates, gaze wandering. "That’s the only credit I can think of, but I’m sure you have more. Somewhere."

Creighton struggles against the leather strips binding him, but they hold fast. “You’re a  _dead man_!”

His threats fall on deaf ears. Pate lifts his hand to admire the prickly band around his finger. The way Creighton freezes at the sight of it, shock visible through his mask, is  _delightful_. “Oh, of  _course_! You have such charming little  _gadgets_! You know, I was in Earthen Peak the other day. A filthy  _cleric_  was rather cross with me over a…misunderstanding. He caught me with his morning star. This cheerful device fired thorns into his chest, broke a jar of toxins, and thus poisoned him. He died horrifically.” Pate kisses the ring. It reciprocates the feeling by digging its barbs into his lips. Love bites. “It’s a shame things went to hell when they did. I would have liked to seen more Mirrahan craftsmanship.”

"I’ll show you Mirrahan craftsmanship," Creighton snarls, "I’ll shove my Mirrahan craftsmanship right up your—"

"What was that, my good fellow?" Pate leans in, cupping a hand over his ear. "Were you trying to be _witty_? My  _word_! You’re like an flat-faced dog whose ugliness somehow makes it cute. I could  _pet_  you right now.”

The struggling starts up again, attempting to dislodge the thief. “I could strangle you with your own _intestines_!”

"Ah. The moment has passed. It was nice while it lasted." Pate drops his hands to his lap. The murderer has inadvertently given him an idea. "Tell you what. I’ll give you your ring back." Oh,  _that_  has Creighton’s attention.  _Good_. “You just have to do something for me in exchange.”

"What’s that?"

He’s  _eager_. Easy now, Pate, don’t let him see your excitement. “Let me pet you.”

One can practically hear the cogs turning in Creighton’s mind. “What the fuck is that supposed to— _oy_!”

Whistling a nonsense tune, the thief leans over to tug Creighton’s tunic above his waist. They’ve camped together long enough for Pate to know there’s nothing but a layer of chain and a layer of cloth beneath. And then the real fun begins. “I’m going to do something nice for you and give you your prized possession back. Call it a reward for a flash of…well, with you one can hardly name it  _brilliance_ , but close enough. You just have to lie there. What do you say?”

_That this is a phenomenally bad idea_ , Creighton thinks, but it’s quickly drowned out by the urge to  _get the ring back_. That came off his first victim, damn it. A high-ranking official in the army. Wasn’t easy. The ring is a trophy, and a fine one at that. That this snide  _serpent_  has it wrapped around his finger is a curse in of itself. He’s offering a cure?

"Yes, fine, just make it quick."

"I beg your pardon?"

The murderer grumbles epithets under his breath. “Yes.  _Please_.”

_Excellent_. Pate relinquishes his bloodthirsty ottoman, clambering over Creighton’s back. Was that a knee in his kidney? Oops. So sorry. Deft fingers tug down his chausses, revealing little more than a brown cloth covering his hips. It never occurred to him to pillage the undergarments of his victims? Not surprising. In any case, that’s not his goal.

The cloth comes off too, and there’s nothing separating Pate from an ass he would kill for.

Heh.

"You’re a damnable lunatic," Creighton growls, squirming against his bondage. "A bloody perverted maniac."

"You brought this on yourself, in a way." Pate rifles through his pockets for a sticky packet of Aromatic Ooze. "Do you remember that night in Volgen many moons ago? You had a flagon too many and took all your clothes off. I had to spirit you to safety after you buried your axe in the skull of a falconer captain." A captain falcon? Whatever. "It was that night I noticed your commendable assets. Now hold still — this will feel  _magical_.”

"I’d rather be felt up by a  _kobold_  than—” The rest of his sentence is swallowed by a strangled, uncertain sound. That is a finger. That is a finger in his—

—that’s  _two_  fingers and they  _tingle_. W-what is that stuff Pate’s putting inside him? 

Why does it feel  _fantastic_?

The thief chuckles, coaxing wet digits in deeper. Should be right about — Creighton moans, back arching and legs curling with pleasure. Yep, there it is. And look at that, he’s hard already, flushed pink and damp at the tip. This blows Pate’s imagination out of the water. This is real, this is happening.

His pants should have come off ten minutes ago. As he shoves his breeches down, Pate says, “You’ve fantasized about kobolds? Kinky.”

Ugh, he’s not moving, why isn’t he moving, this is  _torture_ — “Shut up and fuck me, you bastard!”

Music to his ears. Coating his cock in Ooze, Pate positions himself behind Creighton, front-to-back. He slides his fingers out slowly, relishing the greedy, reluctant squeeze of muscle. It’s a shame he can’t plant kisses onto burning hot skin…but there can always be another day. Maybe with a bed. The possibilities are endless. “Clever words and brilliance may be beyond you, but your dirty talk is impeccable.”

With that, he grasps the murderer’s hips and pushes in.

Creighton grits his teeth, hands balling into fists. For a moment the Ooze only cranks the discomfort into pain, but soon it deadens feeling inside him to the point nothing hurts. He feels full, in fact, connected. To Pate. Well…forget that part. Pretend he’s that handsome Mirrahan knight, the one with blond hair and a gut wound from a Hollow soldier.

Creighton can work with that. “Move, damn you!”

"Hardly in a position to demand—" Pate grumbles, but picks up a rhythm. It doesn’t take long before his annoyance fades under an onslaught of sensation. The chain-mail clinking with his thrusts, the slap of flesh on flesh, the breathy gasps and moans escaping his partner, and the hot, snug tightness of Creighton’s ass — it’s too much. " _Creighton_ —”

He doesn’t remember the last time he’s had a chance for carnal pleasure. He doesn’t remember where he is. All he cares about is reaching higher, chasing that white light behind his eyes, coming to that climax, coming, coming— “ _Pate_!”

Creighton spills onto the mossy ground, cock untouched.

Pate follows shortly after, bruising the murderer’s hips as he finishes inside. Whether or not he knows it, Creighton’s milking him for all he has. The notion makes him moan against the back of his neck. That was divine. That was—

—ow. What?

_The ring_.

As soon as his breath comes under control, Pate pulls out, ignoring Creighton’s pained grunt. Tucking himself into his trousers, the thief straightens his helmet and rises to his feet. “That was splendid, my maladjusted friend. Fear not, I’ll still respect you in the morning.”

The Ooze doesn’t feel pleasurable anymore. It’s gone tacky, and he hates to think of what will happen when it dries on his skin. His binds still won’t budge as Creighton cranes his head to watch Pate. “I gave you what you wanted. Now give me my ring.”

"I will, darling, I will." Pate lifts his shield and spear, a grin spread from ear to ear. "I’ll leave it in the chest in our little hideaway. Come and collect it when you can recall your name. Cheers!"

He remains in a good mood even when the shouted obscenities echo into nothing.

\- - -

Creighton’s ass hurts. No wonder a past encounter couldn’t come to mind. There haven’t  _been_  any.

He’s sticky and sweaty and aching in a place he’s never ached before. At least there was a rock he could grind against until his ties broke.

Walking, for now, seems like a poor idea. In the meanwhile he’ll bide his time, imagine the look on Pate’s face as he chops him to tiny pieces, feeds him to the spiders, bury his head in the sand until his lungs fill with—

Something pats his shoulder.

Squawking in surprise, Creighton reaches for his axe, but pauses as his mind catches up to his hand. It’s an Undead. One he’s seen before. One who sprung him from that damn cage.

"Don’t you scare me like that," Creighton snarls, "I thought you were  _him_.”

The Undead’s eyes light up with realization. This one still has a spark of humanity then. 

And functional legs.

Oh.  _Oh_.  _There’s_  an idea.

“That bastard with the ring lives in Brightstone Cove down the way. I’m gonna find him and settle the score.  _Nobody_  insults me like that.”

Creighton grins and bares his teeth.

“For the good of the world, and for my own honor, I won’t let that bastard live another day. Heh heh…”


End file.
